Search for Lies

Though night had long since fallen over Alfard and its inhabitants had gone to their beds in preparation for an early morning (and yet not as early as in Ahza), the country was not completely asleep. Mintaka's factories—gilded with gold—still whirred with activity and the night shift still went about their work in a gloomy half-awake, half-dead sort of way that no one cared about unless their duties were still undone by the time dawn broke the horizon. The barracks just outside the city were still alive with the soldiers going through night-tests in preparation for a war no one except Alfard wanted to fight. The palace was still abuzz with servants preparing for the inauguration of their future emperor.

Ahza was so quiet, the air so still, that it was almost as if the entire village was dead and that their death was so loud that no one could truly sleep; Mintaka slept to the lullaby of machines and Ahza slept like the dead perhaps because they wished they were dead.

Though night had long since fallen, Alfard was still wakeful. And that made all the difference, in the end.

The would-be emperor stood still as a statue in his study (perhaps as cold as one, too), his back to his redwood desk and gold-gilded chair yet his eyes seemed to not see the night-birds flying through the sky past his window. It was as though he were gazing at something very far away, an illusion no one else could see, or listening to the voice of a person who was not there and no one else could hear. And yet if anyone were to ask him what on earth he was doing at such a late hour, standing alone and doing nothing, he would surely say that he was mourning the death of Olgan, a death so regrettable, so uncalled for that he simply couldn't sleep.

Of course, anyone who really knew him would see through such a pathetic lie in a second.

Shanath would nod, yet his coal black eyes would flash and call him on his lie without ever saying one word. But he would have no reason to acknowledge the accusation and Shanath would leave silently, knowing what a liar Baelheit was and not truly being able to care about it because wasn't Shanath a liar too? He would say the same thing (for his own reasons), too.

No one came to his study though; no one came and questioned him.

So he stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting, waiting, waiting. He stood silently, seemingly calmly but because he didn't suffer from insomnia and he wasn't regretting the death of an emperor he had hated, his stance was rigid, as if he was worried. It wasn't as though he never worried.

The communicator sounded out then, an infernal BEEP BEEP BEEP that would drive anyone mad within seconds, but Baelheit didn't notice it. He snatched the communicator out of his pocket, his cool somewhat broken, thumb poised above the "answer" button. But no, no, he couldn't answer right away, could he? He didn't want her to think he was really, really worried about her. His thumb hovered only moments over the button before he gave in and pressed it, holding the slim, blue device close to his ear. "Yes?" he said curtly.

The voice on the other end was a little breathless. "Successful," she reported, "We've arrived in Hasseleh."

"Hasseleh," the would-be emperor repeated, letting the word flow off the tip of his tongue. "Where, exactly?"

"A village called Sheratan," she replied, a slight edge in her voice now. "Father, are you absolutely sure about this? About him?"

Baelheit's eye twitched slightly, and he glared out the window as though she were standing right in front of him and he could glare at her herself. "Quite certain," he said coolly, "Regardless, that is none of your concern. Continue with your assignment. I want frequent reports."

There was silence on the other end, but he could hear her breathing. His heartbeat relaxed a little, knowing she was still there and safe. He couldn't quite justify sending her on this assignment, no matter how necessary.

"But Father--"

"No, Milliarde. I am certain."

"But he doesn't seem--"

"What people seem like," Baelheit interrupted, "And what they are like are two very different things. Outward appearances lie more often than not."

Another silence. "Like mine?" she replied in a low, hard voice.

Instantly, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He hadn't been thinking, no, not at all. He was, for once, at a loss for words. He—the most charismatic man in all of Alfard—hardly knew what to say to his own daughter. He—more than anybody—should have known better than to phrase it so bluntly. So callously. If he had the power to sway the world's past, he'd have done it in a second, right then and there. Anything to fix the mistake he'd made.

"Not like you, Milliarde," he said instead, vainly trying to keep his tone cool and detached. "You're not a lie."

"That's a lie," she countered softly. He almost wished she had shouted at him. Another pause, full of far more tension and utter pain the previous ones. "I hate you, Father."

What to say to that? "I know, Milliarde."

"I hate you," she said again though her voice broke.

He thought he heard a sniffle, but his Milliarde never cried. She was strong, so strong. "Even so," he replied in a softer voice, laced with self-hate, "Be safe, Milliarde. It may only be Hasseleh but...be safe!"

"I will," she murmured, her voice a little stronger yet still slightly shaky. "It's only a little village called Sheratan, in Hasseleh—oh! Someone's coming! I'll contact you again later."

With that there was a click, no goodbye. Baelheit stared at the communicator as though it were responsible for the sudden break in connection. Her words rang in his head, as though she had shouted them from the very roof of their Mintakan home for all of Alfard—nay, for all of the world to hear.

I hate you.

"Hate me..." Baelheit murmured, glancing out the window once more. "I don't blame you, Milliarde."

I hate me, too.

Prompt: 1. I hate you.

I'm writing these for the 7_lies LJ community, so all seven one-shots will have lies in there, somehow. I figured, to some degree, that lies have a lot to do with Baelheit and Milly, so I chose them as my claim. Not romantically, but hey, they need more father/daughter lovin'! How you interpret what I write about the lies is up to you, but I'd love to hear your comments and reply to them!

This actually turned out a bit differently than I intended, but I like it anyway.